finding louis ✈ larry stylinson

day eighteen✈️

[may have mistakes]

[inserts harry style's voice] "look at that ass"

day eighteen: you're the [ex]-con with the [x]files

[[harry's pov]]

niall won't answer his phone, dumb arse he is

eddie's in the hopstial

ashton's literally becoming an update texter on eddie's yet unknown condition

zayn—well screw that, the fucker isn't even here

louis, well, —

"harry?" he croaks, voice laced nervousness. i face my body more near him, feeling his coldness radiate onto my warm body.

"yes, baby?" the sentence rolls off my tongue like a prayer i've already memorised countless of times. louis shakes slightly besides me, nuzzling his wet face into my neck.

"i've fücked up so badly," he sniffles. "i'm such a screwed up mess. te-tell me i'm a screwed up mess, harry."

i roll my eyes, completely not bothering to think about his statement. "you're not a screwed up mess, baby. you're perfectly fine. especially to me."

i'll admit, for the past few, let's say, six or seven months, louis and i have gone through a whole lot. surprisingly during all that time, i've strongly grown to him. i've learned and experienced his bad side and emotions. and then his real and loving beautiful side that i adore so much. i've been there always at his games, cheering him on loudly with the crowd as if i were a proud mum when really, i was just a really proud, may i add, official boyfriend watching his famous boyfriend kick some good arse on the field.

and so did his actual arse-not that i was staring it all through one of his games— but that's not the point here.

"no, harry, i am," he pushes away, gripping the lime green duvet around his smaller frame tighter as my hand reaches forward to tussle his fluffy hair a bit which causes him to whine and make an adorable face. i take moment to realise that this is the man i most likely will be spending the rest of my life with and it's time i should start to accept that considering his current state at the moment.

"it's okay, louis, i swear we're gonna make it through his again, okay?" i assure, scooting myself over to him so i could wrap my arms around him, cuddling him into my warmth. i feel him mumble against my chest, cool breath painting over my torso as if he wanted the two small inked swallows to fly away from their problems like how he wanted with his.

"what are we going to do now?" he asks and i, having no other choice, plainly shrug at the attempt to answer his question.

it all started after louis went into the bathroom and started screaming so me being the kind and handsome, superman to the rescue i am, i run into the bathroom to see him on the white tiled floor, clutching his phone to his chest as if it were his life source and his loud sobbing filling my ears. i asked what was wrong and he told me that the files—his criminal records and stuff— were taken up by someone and he couldn't afford them to get into the wrong hands and leaked to the whole entire world, especially his fans which on a higher louis tomlinson level — is unacceptable.

"i think it's best if we travel back to holmes chapel and—"

"harry no, if you think i'm ready to meet your family, definitely not." louis mumbles, the feeling of unsteadiness stuck in his words.

i avoid the pained feeling knowing that there's no family there and cover it with a chuckle, "no baby, i have a few friends to discuss a matter with."